And Then He Lived
by RusticWolfxx
Summary: At the end of Mockingjay Gale is not given a proper sending off. This is the life I think that he should live after the books. Please R&R.


**Hello! This is a new kind of story for me so I'd love to know what u think. Most of the things are not to be taken literally-instead they stand for certain aspects in gales life. I have left many loop holes because it is my wish that **_**YOU**_** will also take part in the making of the story. And also the story is full of metaphors and hidden meanings so I'd love it if u could work them out. And lastly I wrote this (mainly) because I think that Gale **_**DOES**_** deserve a proper ending. **_**ENJOY! **_

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He had been finished when he first saw her. His life had ended and he should never be the same again. He had given up, lost hope and let go of all ties which had ever held him down. And now, he would begin again.

The train had thundered down the old rusted track at a speed which took the breathe from all it's inhabitants. He had sat, perched on a wooden bench that allowed him to stare out the window. Outside all there was to see, was the small pinch of nature, too inconsiderate to be memorable. A lone tree. A bog. A crack in the ground which allowed a steady flow of water to pour from the depths of the earth. None of it should matter, not to him. He took his gaze from the world outside for a while so that he could observe the people who lined the train. Haggard and degraded, wrapped in strips of blanket and huddled into small areas of space. With all they owned against their feet, resting on the ground.

He was one of them too. A burlap sack half empty, with meagre clothes and little food. No proper possessions.

He was dressed for the cold air that had welcomed him at home. And now, in the sweltering heat of the crowded train, he was short on breathe.

He waited till the train reached its destination before standing to his full height. At nineteen he was the size of a man, and taller than most. He stooped to reach his sack and came back up as the metal doors slid open. He had arrived.

The station was crowded, many people shuffling in all directions. The remnants of what had once been a glorious district, were now seen as bleak and unappealing. He didn't know what he should do. Or where he should go. For everywhere he looked brought him memories of what had once happened. And he was not strong enough to face his past. Not yet.

His feet began to move in the shoes he wore, and he found himself moving east, further up the platform. He kept walking in the crushing heat. People pushing against him. Making him feel a if he were in the mines once again. But he wasn't, he was standing on the platform of district two, about to start a new life.

He pushed on through the people, driven by a need to reach an unknown destination which he could only imagine. The people grew sparser and there was now enough space to look and see and move without fear of falling. And then, as if all at once; he was nearly alone on the platform.

A girl stood, at least a metre away. She had her back to him, so her face was only a guess, but he believed her to have dimples and shining eyes and rosy cheeks. And be everything that Katniss was not.

She was too slim and her arms were covered with bruises, but this only made him want to go to her more. She shifted in a manner that caused her dress to move too and also her hair.

And then, without any forethought, he was walking towards her. His intentions to speak with her, to see if she would speak to him in return. And he reached her, and she seemed to sense him there, for she turned and she looked at him.

It was not Katniss, for she was gone. It was however, a girl of the same age. With dimples and shining eyes and rosy cheeks. And she was everything that Katniss was not. Her dress was a warm yellow and her eyes were warm brown. And she had small little lips that were pink and closed. The hair on her head was near golden but it was a mess of knots and plaits that had never been undone. She stood on two bare feet and gently raised her hand to greet.

"Hello." He said after a moment, and still waited for her to reply. When she did not, he turned away. Mistaking the opportunity for fluke.

And she stopped him, with a small hand on his arm. And he turned and she smiled.

And then he asked her, "Why do you not reply?" For all he wanted was to hear her voice. And she gestured to her mouth. Tapping her lips and gently shaking her head. And she could not speak but she could hear.

And then he asked, "Have you a home? A family? A place to be?" And she shook her head.

A year later he had married her and they lived in a house in the mountains. Still in district two, for he still had his job. A thing he hated and would not speak of when with her.

And she still had not spoken but she had listened and loved the things he said. And then although they were now living, the fear from the past had kept their minds closed. He would never tell her of who he had been and she would not wonder of it.

Everyday they woke together and ate together and lay together and loved together and slept together. And then he was sure he should have lived, like never before.

He did think of Katniss for he could but he did not want Katniss, nor yearn for Katniss and now, he did not care for Katniss. For the place in his heart she had once had was now held by another. His wife.

The days seemed to pass at a gentle rate and now, at the age of twenty three, he would soon be a father. He spoke of it all through the day, but only to her. And she listened, for she loved the things he would say and she loved the images they would bring.

She was as frail as she had always been but the bruises were now long gone and she had found peace in the absence of her speech. She did not need speech to press her lips to his. And she did not need speech to lie among the forest leaves and watch the birds. And she did not need speech to serve him cakes and soups when he returned from his work. And they lived.

He rose with the sun. Well, old habits die hard. He slipped out of the small cot and set the blankets back over his wife's sleeping form. She stirred and rubbed her belly slightly, hold their child who lay inside. He smiled and changed into the clothes for his work.

His work was the only part of his new life, which still held a part of the future to him. And so he loathed it and vowed that he would one day stop. And yet, he still had not.

He walked through the trees, emerging in the district, which was still silent and empty. His work was not what he represented. His work was Katniss and he had left her behind almost completely. His wife and child now showed him of what his life should be. And he loved that.

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**Haha thanks for everyone who read! Please leave a review and tell me how you thought about it! This was a one-shot but I may write more with the same characters later! Bye!**


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